


Miss Missing You

by harriet_vane



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: AU, Amnesia, Amnesia fic, Angst, Car Accidents, Established Relationship, Happy Ending, M/M, Misery, dubious medical accuracy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-22
Updated: 2014-07-22
Packaged: 2018-02-09 21:49:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1999125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/harriet_vane/pseuds/harriet_vane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Louis wakes up after an accident with a year of memories gone and something not quite right about his relationship with Liam.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>*notes are at the end because they are slightly spoilery</p>
            </blockquote>





	Miss Missing You

There’s a quiet beeping behind Louis’s head somewhere.

It takes what feels like forever for him to work up to opening his eyes. If it’s the alarm, Liam should have rolled over and turned it off by now, because Louis can’t seem to get his arms to work properly. 

But Liam hasn’t stopped it, and the beeping just goes on and on until Louis forces his eyes open. The room comes into swimmy, blurry focus, white where it ought to be blue and grey. Louis blinks and blinks, but his head hurts and nothing wants to make sense.

“Louis?” says a familiar voice. 

Louis turns his head. His neck aches like he’s been lying in the wrong position for weeks. “Zayn?” he says. Or he tries – his voice is like rusty hinges and it’s hard to get enough breath to make himself audible.

“Louis!” Zayn says again, and suddenly Zayn is right next to the bed. “Oh god, you woke up, Louis, you had us all so worried.”

Zayn is blurry but he looks exhausted and like maybe he’s been crying. Louis tries to blink himself into everything making sense, but his head hurts and the lights are bright. “Where?” he says. It’s as close as he’s going to get to a complete sentence. 

“You’re in hospital, mate,” says Zayn. He’s holding Louis’s hand, Louis realizes. He’s only getting what’s going on slowly, in dribs and drabs. He feels fuzzy and stupid and he hates it. “You were in an accident, you’ve been asleep. I—I’m going to call the doctor, okay? He’ll be thrilled you’ve woken up. I’m so glad you woke up.” 

Zayn has definitely been crying. This close, Louis can see the redness around his eyes. His hair looks different, too; maybe he slept on it. Louis’s happy to see him. He’s happy to see anyone, apparently. He turns his head and tries to look around the room, but all he sees are blurry machines and a white curtain.

That doesn’t make sense. “Liam,” Louis says. He must be here somewhere.

Zayn doesn’t say anything. Louis turns back to him, trying to frown, but his head hurts and his face feels far away.

“Liam,” Louis says again. 

“I’ll just… I’ll go and tell everyone you’re awake,” says Zayn, and runs off.

—

Doctors come in and ask Louis loads of questions. What day is it, and who’s the prime minister, and where does he work, and what’s his mum’s name? 

Louis gets them wrong. Well, some of them; he knows his mum’s name, but when he says the year the doctor gets a funny look on his face, and when he asks Louis about work and what he remembers, Louis can feel his head go swimmy. “Dunno,” he says. “I think… Dunno, my head hurts. Can’t remember.” Things are missing; he can remember dropping out of uni just fine, and he remembers sneaking off for a weekend to get married to Liam and not telling his mum until after. But he can’t really remember their flat, or his job, or what he’s been up to, and he thinks maybe all those things happened a while ago. 

“Not much from the last year, I’m afraid,” says the doctor. “Happens, sometimes. You were in a coma for a couple of days, my lad, you’re lucky you only lost a bit of memory.”

“Will it come back?” Louis asks.

“I need to do some more tests,” says the doctor.

Louis’s got a blinding headache, so he closes his eyes for a while, and when he opens them again Zayn and the doctor are whispering furiously at each other by the door. 

“Where the hell is Liam?” Louis asks. “He wasn’t in the accident as well, was he? Is he alright? Are you not telling me—“

“He’s fine,” says Zayn quickly. “He’s with your mum, I’ll just… go and get both of them.” He gives the doctor a dark look. 

The doctor says, “We want to avoid any shocks,” and checks some of the machines that are still beeping behind Louis’s head.

It’s a couple of minutes before Louis’s mum comes in. She’s been crying, and she’s got all the girls, but she only lets them come in one at a time to hug him and cry and tell him how scared they were. “Sorry I frightened you,” Louis says. His mum scolds him and cries and scolds him again, until the twins start looking bored and sleepy and she has to carry them out.

On her way out Louis’s mum holds the door open long enough for him to see her saying something to Liam, and giving him a hug. That’s nice. She’s always liked Liam, and Louis hopes she’s kept an eye on him whilst he was in hospital.

Then Liam finally, _finally_ comes in, and Louis’s got half a mind to shout at him for taking so long, except Louis’s head is splitting. So he just holds his arms up and pulls a pouty face and groans, “It hurts, where’ve you _been_?” 

“Oh, Lou, I’m sorry,” says Liam. He doesn’t just climb into the hospital bed like Louis was hoping, he hovers near the edge. “You really…. You’ve really been in bad shape.”

“Make it up to me,” Louis says demandingly. He must have been near death to keep Liam away. Liam looks terrible. Louis tilts his face up.

Liam goes very still for a moment, and then his face softens. He looks so upset. “Oh, babe,” he says quietly, and leans down and kisses Louis’s cheek. Louis grabs his shirt with both hands as best as he can. “Oh god, Louis. I… I missed you.”

“Well, I’m here now,” says Louis, and doesn’t let go.

—

Louis feels terrible, which means he only gets grabbier with Liam. Liam is, in many ways, the most superior form of a security blanket. He tries to get Liam to climb into the hospital bed with him, but Liam won’t, he just says, “Don’t think there’s room,” and pulls over a chair instead. At least he’s willing to sit next to Louis, holding Louis’s hand and rubbing one of his hands over Louis’s shoulder absently.

Niall and Harry come in, just long enough to be awfully worried. “You don’t remember the accident at all?” Harry asks. Louis shakes his head. 

“Glad you woke up, I missed your ugly face,” says Niall, and laughs. 

“What’s the last thing you remember?” Harry asks. He looks so concerned. Maybe Louis forgot his birthday or something.

Liam explains tiredly, “It’s not any one thing. There’s just big gaps. Most of the last year, at least, and things are fuzzy before that, back nearly as far as when he was still at uni.” Apparently that was a full three years ago, although to Louis it feels like it just happened.

“Ohhhh,” says Niall, eyebrows up high under his fringe. He gives Liam a look that might be worry or it might be sympathy. Liam just shrugs.

“But he might remember again,” Harry says.

“But he might not,” says Liam. They stare at each other for a minute. 

“He’s right here,” Louis complains, and squeezes Liam’s hand. Liam isn’t being nearly nice enough to him right now, considering. By which he means, Liam is paying attention to other people.

Liam rubs his shoulder again. “Sorry, babe. We’re just all trying to get our heads round you forgetting us a bit.”

“I’d never forget _you_ ,” says Louis. He looks down at Liam’s hand, wrapped around his. “Where’s your wedding ring, then? I’m in a coma a couple of days and you’re out looking to date?”

He means it as a joke, but Harry and Niall both make shocked little noises. Obviously Liam would never do that, Louis wants to huff at them.

“I let the girls play with it in the waiting room,” Liam says easily. “They were doing a pretend wedding. I’ll go and get it back from them later. “

“Take me home,” Louis whines. “I don’t want to be in this scratchy bed anymore, the beeping is driving me mad. Sneak me out, Liam.”

“A couple of days and you’ll be right as rain,” says Liam. “And then you can go home wherever you want.”

“I can’t do this,” Harry says abruptly, turns on his heel, and stomps off.

Liam and Niall look at each other, obviously worried. “Is he okay?” Louis asks.

“Just worried about you,” says Liam.

“I’ll just… Sorry, Louis, I’m gonna make sure he’s okay,” says Niall. He claps Liam on the shoulder and then runs after Harry.

The hum of machinery is loud, and Louis feels like crap. “Get them to give me better drugs,” he says. “I want all the painkillers. I want to be out of my mind.”

“You’re always out of your mind,” Liam teases, but his smile is small and worried. 

“Come and cuddle with me,” Louis orders. “There’s room. You and me, we always fit in tiny beds. Remember at uni, when my bed was barely big enough for me and you’d sneak in?”

“And half the time you’d kick me onto the floor halfway through the night,” Liam says. He smiles but it’s watery around the edges, like he might cry. After a second he puts his hand over his mouth and turns away, looking at the walls rather than at Louis.

Louis says, “It’s okay. I’m fine. I’m right here. Nothing terrible happened to me, okay? You’ve been worried, but I’m _fine_.”

“Yeah,” says Liam, choked up and miserable sounding.

“Cuddle,” says Louis again tugging on Liam’s hand until Liam gives up and eases himself onto the edge of the bed. He never was any good at saying no to Louis when Louis wanted something – that’s something Louis hasn’t forgotten. Louis hurts nearly everywhere, he’s one giant bruise, but he shifts over to make Liam room and wraps his arms around him. Liam kicks his trainers off and buries his face in Louis’s neck. He’s on top of the blanket and Louis’s under it, but they’re as pressed together as they can be. 

Liam’s breathing is still shaky and too loud, like he’s trying not to cry. “I’m fine, love,” Louis says, running his hand up and down Liam’s back. Liam nods and doesn’t say anything. “I won’t leave you like that again, I promise.” 

—

Louis doesn’t remember anything more the next day than he already did. They keep quizzing him and running tests, but everything is a blur no matter how many times they ask him the last thing he remembers.

“I decided to quit wasting time at uni,” Louis says. “I got a job doing… doing something…”

“You were arranging charity sport matches,” Liam says, and squeezes his hand. He hasn’t left since Louis woke up that morning, and he looks bleary eyed and exhausted. “And working part-time in a shop.”

“Was it a toy shop?” Louis asks, scrunching up his nose.

Liam smiles tiredly. “That was two jobs ago.”

Well, at least Louis hasn’t gone and had a sudden change of personality since the last thing he can remember. “Liam and I snuck off and got married, and my mum threw a fit when she found out, and we had a party in Harry’s garden.” He squeezes Liam’s hand back; the party was amazing. Both their families sat around crying and scolding them for keeping it a secret. “Harry got Liam lingerie as a joke, and Liam didn’t know lingerie was spelled like that.” He grins up at Liam, even though it hurts his face where he’s still bruised.

“And I wasn’t gonna wear it,” Liam says. 

“You could do,” Louis argues. Liam shakes his head, fond and exasperated. “Well, maybe I will, then. Can I go home?”

“Another day or two,” says the doctor. “What else do you remember? The wedding was what, three years ago?”

Liam looks at the floor. “Three years ago last week,” he says. 

“That was a shit anniversary, then, if I was in hospital. I’ll make it up to you.”

“What else do you remember?” the doctor repeats.

Louis sighs loudly with annoyance. “I don’t know. I remember working at a toy shop. I remember Liam had just got a job at a recording studio, I think?”

“That's right,” says Liam. "Right after uni."

“I remember they wanted you to work all hours of the day and night.” Louis says. Liam freezes — Louis must have remembered something he didn't expect. "Do you still work there, then?"

Liam nods. “Yeah,” he says. "I... Yeah, they still..."

Louis feels sulky. “I’m a shit husband, aren’t I? I can’t remember anything important.”

“You’re not,” Liam says, choked up again. He’s been crying quietly to himself on and off all day, whenever he thinks Louis’s asleep or distracted. Louis can’t wait to get out of bed and show Liam that he’s _fine_. 

The doctor says, “Let’s try and ease you back into your life, shall we? One step at a time. Another day of tests and some physical therapy, and then we’ll send you home.” He looks at Liam. “You can look after him?”

“Of course—“ Louis starts.

“He might rather go to his mum’s,” Liam says. 

Louis squawks with outrage. “Why?”

Liam isn’t looking at him, he’s looking at the floor again. “She’s your mum, isn’t she? She can look after you when you’re poorly better than I ever could. She makes better soup. You always tell me that.”

“She doesn’t cuddle as well as you do,” Louis says. “I want to go home with you. Mum can come and visit.”

Liam doesn’t say anything.

“Is that alright?” the doctor asks. “Do you feel up to it?”

“I’m not _that_ much of a pain in the arse,” Louis complains.

“Yes, you are,” says Liam, with a sideways smile at him. “Of course I’ll take him home. I can – I just –“

Zayn waves through the door and Louis doesn’t think he’s ever seen Liam so relieved in all his life. “I’m just going to go and tell Zayn how you’re doing,” Liam says. He gives Louis a kiss on the cheek – all he’s given Louis are cheek kisses, like he’s scared Louis’ll break or something – and then he ducks out of the room and into a hug with Zayn.

“It’s Liam you ought to worry about,” says Louis, frowning.

The doctor makes a note on his tablet. “You two can look after each other,” he says, and that seems like a fair compromise.

—

Louis still feels a bit wobbly but he’s one-hundred-percent sick of being in hospital by the time they let him leave. The doctors give Louis all sorts of rehab activities to get his muscles back on track after a few days of barely moving, and they offer to sign him off work for a couple of weeks. “You weren’t actually working anywhere, babe,” Liam says apologetically.

“They should sign you off so you can look after me,” Louis says, because he has every intention of being clingy and needy until Liam stops looking so haunted.

“I’ve taken a few days, don’t worry,” Liam says. “But when I need to go back we’ve got Niall and Harry and Zayn, and Jay’ll come down, too. And if you get home and remember – realize you don’t want to be there, you can always go and stay with her. You know that, right?”

Liam looks so concerned. Something’s not right, and as soon as Louis’s a bit more recovered he’s going to sit down and shake Harry until Harry tells him what’s going on. Louis’s had his brain rattled, but he isn’t stupid. Liam’s feeling terrible about _something_. 

“Take me to our flat,” Louis orders. Liam sighs and nods.

Louis hopes the whole way home that he’ll remember something, but the streets of London don’t look any more familiar in their neighborhood than anywhere else. He ought to remember the flat, if they’ve been living there for a while, but he walks in and nothing looks familiar at all. It’s small and cozy, although there’s nothing on the walls. 

“Two bedrooms?” Louis asks, frowning. 

“It was supposed to be for your sisters to stay when they came out to visit. Or my sisters. Then it became kind of a storage space for my guitar and your pinball machine. Uh, Niall’s been staying there, but he said he’d get his stuff and go crash with Harry.”

“I’m glad Niall was looking after you,” Louis says. He can see a Rams poster on the wall in the second bedroom – Niall’s made himself right at home, then. 

Liam shepherds Louis into the other bedroom. Nothing on the walls in here, either, which is weird. “Did we not hang any of the wedding photos? Or a picture of my family?”

“You… Yeah,” Liam says. He looks guilty and sick again. 

It takes Louis a second to work it out. “You took them down. Because you were upset I was in a coma?”

“Oh god, Lou—“ Liam starts, looking a little red-eyed and teary again.

“It’s okay,” Louis says. “I wouldn’t want to see us happy, either, if I thought you might be really hurt. Liam, I promise, it’s okay.” He pulls Liam into a kiss, or tries to, but Liam’s shoulders are stiff and he’s holding himself so rigidly Louis can’t get him to kiss back properly. “Liam,” Louis says. “C’mon, let’s lie down. You’ll feel better after you get some rest. You can’t have been sleeping well in a chair at the hospital.”

Liam shakes his head as Louis sits down on the bed. “I thought… I mean, you’re still all bruised up, I figured I’d stay in the other room…” Liam says.

“Absolutely not,” says Louis. “Liam, come here. Liam!”

Liam lets Louis drag him down onto the bed. “The doctor said… You need to rest properly, I—“

“I always sleep better with you,” Louis says. Liam shakes his head. “Okay, fine, I won’t even badger you about sex tonight, even though it’s been _weeks_ and I’m gagging for it.” Liam makes a choked noise. “But I always sleep better with you, babe. Come and cuddle with me, okay? I’m shattered.”

Actually it’s Liam Louis’s concerned about. He looks like he hasn’t slept in days. He doubts Niall’s been crawling into bed for a cuddle, and Liam can never sleep well when he’s alone or upset. Louis knows the accident wasn’t his fault, it was the other driver, but he feels pretty shit about making Liam look so upset and stressed out. 

Louis wraps his arms around Liam and hooks his chin over Liam’s shoulder. “C’mon, babe,” he says. “Lie down with me for a little while. Please?”

Liam nods once, stiff and jerky. Louis kicks off his Toms. He feels a little gross from the hospital and he’d like a shower. He’d like Liam to have a shower, too, actually. But this seems more important. Louis crawls over to the pillows – he really is still sore, it turns out, his ribs and his head ache all over – and pulls Liam along with him. Liam lies down as close to the other edge of the bed as he can get, still holding himself so tightly still that Louis’s worried he’ll break in half.

Louis pulls on Liam until he rolls a little closer, and then wraps himself around Liam. Liam’s warm, like he’s always been, but Louis’s never tried to cuddle him when Liam wouldn’t cuddle back. Liam’s always been desperate for a cuddle. 

“Babe,” Louis whispers. Liam sighs and turns into him, relaxing just a fraction, just enough for Louis to settle into the duvet and the pillows. Maybe he really will get some sleep. As guilty as Liam seems to feel right now, he won’t sneak out of bed, and if that’s the only way to get Liam to rest then Louis’ll do it. And then, once they’re both a bit recovered, Louis’s going to figure out what stupid thing he’s done to make Liam so upset, and he’ll fix it.

—

“Harry’s coming over later,” Liam says. Louis woke up with Liam cuddled up next to him, but the moment they were both awake Liam jumped out of bed like it was on fire. 

“Okay,” says Louis.

Liam peers at him anxiously. “Are you sure you don’t remember yet? The doctor said you might.”

Louis groans. “The doctor also said I might never remember the last year, it might all be gone forever. Why? Did something important happen? Did we adopt a baby or win a million pounds?”

“No,” says Liam. “Neither of those. I wish it were that. Nothing, okay. I just want to know if you remember.”

Liam’s such a shit liar. “I know the doctor told you that I shouldn’t have any sudden shocks,” says Louis. “But if something happened, you can tell me, Liam. Honestly. Whatever it is.”

“No,” says Liam. “Nothing. It’s nothing, it’s nothing if you don’t remember. It’s not important. I just—“

Louis says impatiently, “You just think I’m going to be furious with you when I remember. I figured that much out, so you might as well tell me.”

“What do you want for breakfast?” Liam asks, as if Louis will forget what he was just saying like he’s forgotten the last year. “Eggs? I think we have eggs.”

“I don’t care as long as you don’t burn it to ashes,” Louis says. 

Liam flashes him a quick, relieved smile. “You rest, okay? I’ll go and cook, and if I do ruin it, Harry can fix you something later.”

“Liam, I love you, and I don’t care about whatever happened before I got in the car accident,” Louis says. He sounds cross, so maybe it’s not as convincing as it might be.

Liam flinches. “Breakfast,” he says, and practically runs out to the kitchen.

“I love you, damn it!” Louis shouts after him. Liam yells back a vague sort of noise that might be _I love you too_ and might be _How about toast?_

Louis lies back on his pillows and grumbles to himself. He can’t figure out if something genuinely awful has happened, or if Liam’s just overreacting and being guilty. Louis has never had a serious fight with Liam – at least not in all the years he can still remember – so he doesn’t really know how Liam would handle a big blow up. They’d gone from strangers to best friends to boyfriends so quickly, and there had never really been anything to fight over. 

Maybe he was really cross and shouted at Liam and Liam’s worried that when he remembers he’ll be cross again. Liam should know that Louis never really stays angry, though. Especially not when he’s hurt and feeling terrible and just wants someone to pet his hair and bring him toasted cheese sandwiches and soup. 

Never mind Liam clattering about in the kitchen; Louis’s tired and his head still hurts. When Harry shows up later, Louis will badger him into telling him what their fight was about. Harry’s no good at keeping secrets, either. 

—

When Louis goes to get dressed, he notices that his clothes aren’t in the wardrobe where they should be. There’s only Liam’s things. And none of Louis’s DVDs are lying around on the floor in the living room, either. If Louis has to be a detective then he will be, but he hopes he can badger Harry or Liam into just telling him.

Harry won’t say anything. He’s wide-eyed and nervous and talks too loudly about absolutely nothing. It’s not unusual for Harry, to be honest, but Louis can tell there’s something he’s worried that Louis will remember. He and Liam keep whispering, and a man can only take so much.

“Okay,” says Louis, “so who’s going to tell me what’s going on?”

“Nothing’s going on, Lou,” says Liam. “Well, you got in a car accident and nearly died and scared us all to death, but nothing else is going on.”

Louis snorts. “Pull the other one. Come on, tell me.”

Harry looks at Liam, and Liam shakes his head. “Nothing,” says Harry. “Nothing important.”

“I don’t believe you,” says Louis, “and I’m starting to get annoyed at being lied to. Where have all my things gone? They aren’t here. Did you think I wouldn’t notice?”

Harry just turns and looks at Liam. Liam goes still for a moment, and then sighs. “Okay, well, we’re not supposed to give you any shocks, but I suppose you ought to know this. You’d been staying with Jay. I told you, you probably want to go back there—“

“Why was I staying at my mum’s?” Louis asks, frowning. How serious had the fight with Liam been? 

“She… God, Louis, don’t get upset, alright? It’s old news to us, but it’s new to you. She was having a rough go of it with the girls, and you wanted to help out.”

Well, that certainly is a reason that Louis might have been staying at home. “What’s going on with them?” he asked. “No one’s ill, are they? Or—“

“She’s getting a divorce,” says Liam, quiet and apologetic. “Are you alright? You don’t remember, I know, and I don’t want to upset you.”

As soon as Louis hears it, he knows it’s true; he still doesn’t explicitly remember talking to his mum about anything, but the word _divorce_ settles into his stomach as if it had always been there. “Ah,” he says. 

Harry squints at him curiously. “You’re alright? No sudden brain pain? Jay told Liam not to tell you, you’d only fret.” 

“I am upset,” Louis agrees, “but I don’t think it’s going to send me back to hospital or anything.” He can’t remember, but he can imagine how upset his mum must be, all on her own with all the girls. Of course Louis would have wanted to go and stay with her to help out. 

Liam probably just feels guilty that now Louis’s with him instead of his mum. It’s sweet, but it’s silly; Louis wouldn’t be much help to her right now anyway. 

“She’s going to be okay. Jay is tough, she’ll get through this,” Liam says reassuringly.

“Obviously,” Louis says. He rolls his eyes but it hurts his head. “Come and give me a cuddle, though, because I can’t go and help right now.”

Liam looks at Harry, and Harry shrugs. Liam sighs a little. “You really won’t like that you’re here once you remember,” Liam says, but he walks over to Louis anyway. He settles on the sofa a little bit farther than Louis would like, so Louis scooches over next to him. 

“Maybe he won’t remember,” Harry says. He sounds hopeful.

Liam puts his arm round Louis’s shoulders and kisses the top of his head. Louis snuggles in contentedly. “Of course he’s going to remember,” Liam says softly. 

“Tell us as soon as you remember anything,” Harry says.

“Oh, I think we’ll be able to tell,” Liam replies.

“I remember you’re crap at Mario Kart,” says Louis to Harry. “Come and play with me and let me win, I’m injured.”

Harry laughs. “Only because you’re poorly.” Harry scrambles to set up the video game, trying to sort through all the wires and controllers. 

“If you say that he’ll pretend to be poorly forever,” says Liam. Louis pinches his leg. Liam smiles and Louis realizes he hasn’t seen Liam in a proper grin since he woke up. 

“Don’t worry about me,” says Louis. “I’m going to remember everything and be good as new.”

“Yeah,” says Liam. “Can’t wait.”

—

Harry stays for a while. Louis gets a cuddle off him, while Liam goes and tries to rearrange things in the flat. A picture of Liam and Louis in a frame reappears; Louis doesn’t remember the occasion, but they look happy, arms around each other, on a balcony somewhere. Liam’s grinning and Louis has a sly look on his face. He was probably just teasing Liam about something. 

Otherwise none of the pictures of Louis’s family he was expecting are anywhere. He looks through the drawers and Liam slaps his hands away with a huffy, “You’re supposed to be resting.” 

Louis looks at Harry and rolls his eyes, expecting Harry to roll his as well, because Liam’s always worried too much. Instead, Harry looks uncomfortable and frowny.

“What?” Louis asks.

“Maybe you two should do something,” Harry says.

Liam looks puzzled. “We are doing something, Haz. We’re hanging out with you.”

“I mean, like,” Harry says slowly. “A thing you’ve done before.”

“Good point,” Louis says. “We’ve never all sat around together playing Mario Kart before. It’s a brand new world.”

Harry makes an exasperated noise. “Something you used to do with Liam,” he says. “Somewhere you used to go. Maybe you’d remember.”

“Louis doesn’t want to go on a date with me,” says Liam. Louis frowns at him. “I mean, his head still hurts, he’s meant to be resting.”

“Anyway, I remember dating you,” says Louis. “I just can’t remember this year. Did we do anything special in the last couple of months?”

Liam looks at Harry and says, “This is a terrible idea.”

“No,” Harry insists. “Maybe he’ll remember things you did together and he’ll be happy and everything will work out.”

Louis’s getting awfully tired of people talking about him as if he’s not there. “We could just go to dinner or something,” Louis says. “Have we got a favorite restaurant around here?”

“Take him to the park,” Harry says. “You love the park.”

Louis clears his throat loudly, crossing his arms. He’s annoyed with both of them.

“Tomorrow, maybe,” Liam says. “I’m not going to drag him all over. The doctors said rest.”

“I’ll take myself anywhere I like,” Louis says loudly.

Liam finally, finally turns to look at him. “Sorry,” he says. “I just meant I don’t want you to get all tired out. You can’t see how tired you look. And I’d feel awful if I dragged you out and then you felt poorly after. You’re banged up enough.”

“Well,” says Louis huffily, because he’ll accept that, but he still doesn’t think being in an accident has turned him into a child. 

Harry’s giving Liam the closest thing to an actually nasty look that Louis’s ever seen. “Don’t you want him to remember?” Harry says, scowling.

Liam goes pale. “Yeah,” he says. “Harry, I do. Of course I do.”

The weird thing is, Louis doesn’t think Liam means it. What kind of a fight did they have, that Liam’s still this upset about it? He obviously thinks Louis will remember something awful he did, but Liam’s never done anything awful. Thoughtless sometimes, or ridiculous, or embarrassing. Plenty of those. But not _awful_ , and Louis can’t stand the way Liam looks. He’s so upset.

“Maybe I will go to bed for a while,” says Louis. “Liam, will you come and lie down with me?” Maybe if he can get his hands on Liam, he can reassure him that even if he remembers, he won’t be upset. And just because he promised not to badger Liam about sex last night, doesn’t mean he can’t today. It’s always been the easiest way to get Liam to relax.

“You go to bed and Harry and I’ll tidy,” says Liam.

“I’m going home, actually,” says Harry. “I’ll be back tomorrow, if you want me. I can make food, so you aren’t trying to live off of takeaway. Feel better, Louis.”

Louis wants to point out that he feels fine, except for the whole not-remembering thing, but that undermines his attempts to get Liam to come lie down with him. “Get out of here, then,” he says, giving Harry a hug.

Harry and Liam have a quiet, tense discussion by the door. Louis can’t wait until it’s been long enough that they all stop whispering about things they’re afraid he’ll hear. He’s going to give it another day or two and then he’s putting his foot down. He’d do it now, but his head hurts, and if there’s some sort of drama going on, he doesn’t want to be part of it. He really does want to lie down.

It takes forever for Liam to come in and join him. Louis’s half-asleep, even though it’s barely four in the afternoon. He doesn’t have a job he should be at, apparently, so he doesn’t feel at all guilty lying around napping. He does wonder, sleepily, why he hasn’t got a job. Maybe he’d just been sacked before the car accident. 

Liam comes in quietly, but he doesn’t turn the lights on. Louis rolls over and makes a demanding noise, reaching for him.

“Thought you might be asleep,” Liam whispers.

“M’not,” says Louis. “C’mere.”

Liam laughs and sits down on the edge of the bed. Louis pulls at his arm. “Cuddle,” says Louis.

“You already had a cuddle with Harry,” Liam says. “Don’t you want some sleep?”

Louis doesn’t bother answering that, he just pulls on Liam until Liam lies down with him. Louis runs his hand up and down Liam’s chest, over his t-shirt. “Why are you dressed?” Louis asks. “You should be naked.”

“No strenuous activity,” says Liam.

“Then we’ll go slowly,” says Louis. He pulls the collar of Liam’s t-shirt down and mouths at Liam’s neck. 

Liam closes his eyes. “We shouldn’t do this. I mean, not until you feel better.”

“I’m going to be bruised and aching for days,” Louis argues. Liam isn’t moving with him like he should be, he’s just lying there. Louis bites at Liam’s collarbone, and Liam shivers. “I should at least be aching in a good way.”

“We’re not gonna fuck,” says Liam flatly. Louis’s always liked the way he sounds when he swears. Louis pinches Liam’s side and pushes his hand up underneath Liam’s shirt. 

“It doesn’t have to be strenuous,” Louis says. “I just want to touch you. I want you to relax.”

“Louis, no,” says Liam, but Louis doesn’t stop kissing him, and trying to touch him. Liam growls a little and rolls over on top of him, pinning Louis’s hands to the bed. Louis grins up at him. Liam shakes his head. “Not until you remember.”

“What?” Louis demands. “What if I never remember? The doctors said I might not. And I’m hardly going to live the rest of my life without having sex with my husband.”

Liam’s struggling with something; it’s all over his face that he’s having an argument in his own head. He makes some sort of decision and leans down and kisses Louis. It’s slow and heavy, and every time Louis tries to say something Liam kisses him harder, pressing Louis down into the pillows. Liam’s mouth is plush and hot and he kisses like he’s missed Louis terribly, and he’s trying to memorize him again.

“Babe,” says Liam quietly, resting his forehead against Louis’s. He’s heavy, sitting on top of Louis’s hips. “Please, you have to trust me. This isn’t a good idea. Not until you remember.”

“Whatever you’re worried about, you don’t need to be,” says Louis. “I love you. You know that. I just want to… Let’s just pretend nothing happened, okay? Since I can’t remember whatever’s stressing you out.”

Liam says, “When you _do_ remember—“

“Just lie down with me, then,” says Louis. He fists his hands in Liam’s t-shirt. “I don’t care about remembering. Just stay with me.”

Liam hesitates for a minute. Louis doesn’t let go of his shirt, though, and eventually he rolls over and lies down next to Louis. “I do want you to remember,” Liam says against his shoulder. “I swear I do.”

Louis doesn’t really believe him, but he also doesn’t care. “I’m going to remember,” he says. “But don’t think this is the end of the sex conversation. I’m going to talk you around on this.”

“You can try,” says Liam. Louis can feel Liam’s dick pressed against his hip, half-hard, and wonders why Liam’s so hell-bent on denying himself. It doesn’t matter. Louis scratches his hand up and down Liam’s back and Liam groans quietly. Louis will figure out whatever’s broken, and he’ll fix it.

—

It’s funny but Louis hasn’t looked in a mirror since he woke up, at least not since it stopped being blurry and hard to see. He looks different. He strokes his hand over his chin, trying to work out if it looks pointier, if the gold stubble there makes him look much older than he expects. His hair is longer than he remembers, curling around the back of his neck. That makes sense, since Liam looks older, too. But it’s a strange feeling, looking in the mirror and not seeing what he expects. Louis leans closer, trying to see if he’s got wrinkles around his eyes. Liam’s only looking handsomer and more like Beckham as he ages, but what if Louis’s turning into some sort of hag?

“You look perfect,” says Liam, sprawled in bed.

Louis had thought he was still asleep. “I look tired, and I’ve got bags under my eyes,” Louis says. “I look thin and pale and terrible. Let’s go on a beach holiday. I need sun.”

“We can, if you like,” says Liam. His voice is scratchy and deep, and Louis is seriously thinking about how to get him over this whole no-sex thing. “I’ve got another couple of days off work.”

“You always work too much, we never go on holiday,” says Louis, pretending to be grumpy about it. Liam goes still. Louis misses what’s on his face – he doesn’t have all the lights on – but that’s one of Liam’s tells when he’s upset. 

Louis turns around properly. “What? What did I say?”

It looks like Liam’s having to remember how to breathe again. “Nothing,” says Liam, sitting up. He shakes his head. “Nothing, just… You make that joke a lot, it startled me.”

“I’m just the same as I was, minus a year of memories,” says Louis.

“No,” says Liam sadly. “Not just the same.”

Louis feels ill. He’s done something awful, to make Liam look like that. To make Liam think that whatever they fought about can’t just be forgotten and ignored. Louis throws himself onto the bed – and regrets it, he’s still sore and aching – and wraps himself, octopus-style, around Liam.

“Babe, we have to get you out of your head about this,” he says. He can feel Liam’s misery soaking through his skin somehow. “Tomorrow we’ll have a nice day out, get some sunshine, see if I remember anything. And if I don’t, then we’re just going to say I never will, and it doesn’t matter. Okay?”

Liam nods, and Louis knows he doesn’t mean it, but he doesn’t care. He kisses Liam’s cheek, and then his neck, carefully, like Liam’s the one who was injured instead of Louis. Liam closes his eyes, but he stays stiff and uncomfortable. 

“I’ll take you anywhere you like, tomorrow,” Liam says. “And then you should go to Jay’s. She’ll miss you, You’ve been staying there. And she could use the moral support of having you around.”

“I don’t want to go, if you’re sad,” says Louis. He bites Liam’s shoulder, and Liam groans quietly.

“I’m happy you’re alright,” says Liam. “Really happy.”

Louis kisses his way up Liam’s neck. Liam hasn’t been shaving, either; he’s got a little beard that Louis doesn’t remember. Is it a grief beard? Or has Liam just decided to be a beardy sort of person?

“I like your beard,” says Louis. “You look like a fisherman. A really rugged one.”

Liam snorts. “It used to be longer, like a proper beard, but you bitched until I trimmed it.”

“I would never,” says Louis, even though he probably would. He rubs his face against Liam’s stubble. It’s itchy in a nice way. Softer than it looks. “Why haven’t you told me to cut my hair, then?”

“I like it long,” says Liam. He relaxes fractionally against Louis. “You look like a lion.”

Louis drops his voice and lets himself growl a little in Liam’s ear. “I bet you like to pull it.”

Liam laughs. “You hungry for dinner? Harry left us food, or we can order a pizza if you like.”

“Stop stopping me from having sex with my husband,” Louis says. “I am hungry, though.”

“Don’t say it—“

“Hungry for _you_.”

Liam shakes his head again, rolling his eyes a little, and scoots away from Louis. “Maybe you can’t remember how ridiculous you are,” he says. “But I do.”

“You love it,” says Louis firmly.

“Yeah, of course,” says Liam. “Let’s order a pizza. I’m starved.”

And that’s it; he goes out to grab his phone. Louis slams his hand on the bed in frustration. 

—

They walk around the park and Louis doesn’t remember anything.

The weather is chilly; Liam made him wear a jumper and a scarf and Louis bitched and moaned, but now he’s glad because the wind is cutting straight through his clothes and making him feel more like an icicle than anything else. He puts an arm around Liam’s waist to hold him close; Liam is always a furnace. He isn’t even wearing a jumper. 

“Did we _do_ something in this park?” Louis asks peevishly. “Something I might remember?” It’s just a load of bare trees and dead grass.

Liam’s cheeks go pink. Louis doesn’t think it’s from the weather. “Uh,” he says. “Well.”

“We had sex in a park?” Louis asks. “I’m well impressed.”

“We… no, it was just a bit… I mean, we didn’t have _sex_ ,” says Liam.

Louis bats his eyes. “Maybe I’d remember better if we recreated that moment.”

Liam snorts. 

Louis pulls Liam closer. He backs up until he’s leaning against one of the trees, ankles wet in the damp grass. The clouds are grey and the wind is mostly blocked by Liam’s broad back. Louis grabs Liam’s t-shirt in both hands and pulls him in as close as they can get.

“You should try and help me remember,” he says. 

Liam puts a hand on the tree trunk over Louis’s shoulder to brace himself. “I want to, I promise. I’ve missed this – I’ve missed you.”

Louis tilts his face up promisingly. Liam still sounds agonized. “Whatever dumb thing I said that I can’t remember – I take it back.”

Liam leans in a little like he can’t help himself. “I wish you could,” he says. “God, I wish—“

Louis pushes up on his toes and kisses him. Liam seems like he’s got taller, somehow. Broader, too. He looks wonderful, even though he’s miserable. If only Louis could find the magic words that would make him _less_ miserable. He tries to put that into the kiss somehow; _I love you and I’m sorry I was a dick and I’m sorry we had a fight, but I love you and it doesn’t matter now_. And Liam kisses back, hungry and a little desperate, pushing Louis’s back against the rough tree trunk until he can’t breathe and all he wants is to have Liam hold him there, just like that, forever. Warm and sheltered and breathless. 

“I can just pretend I remember and we can move on,” Louis whispers against Liam’s mouth. “Let’s just go on as if I do.”

“I _can’t_ ,” Liam says. His hands are tight on Louis’s hips. “You’d be _so mad_ , when you remember, you’d hate me—“

“Never,” Louis promises. “I couldn’t.”

Liam’s voice cracks and the falters. “You do.”

“Bullshit,” says Louis, loudly and brusquely. He’s tired of having this same conversation. “Stop being an idiot. You’ve always been oversensitive. I say loads of rubbish; you know better than to listen to any of it. You’re all fucked up over this and I’m _tired_ of it.” He drags Liam down into another kiss, biting at him this time, trying to stop him from saying whatever he’s going to say next. It’s stupid and Louis doesn’t want to hear it. He growls a little, digging his teeth into Liam’s lower lip. He wants Liam to hurt. 

Liam doesn’t let him. He uses his height and reach to push Louis off after a minute, holding him against the tree. He weighs more than Louis does, but he so rarely asserts himself like that. Louis’s furious and red-faced and he wants Liam to fuck him, right there in the park, against a tree. 

“I’m pissed at you, too,” Liam says. He’s out of breath and his hair is mussed. “I haven’t told you that yet, have I? We’re pissed at each other.”

“Are we?” Louis hadn’t really considered that if he was this angry at Liam, Liam might be feeling something about him, too. Liam’s so easy to please. He’s so happy to be happy.

“Yeah,” says Liam. “You’ve been a dickbag.”

He doesn’t sound angry about it. He sounds fond. “I’m sorry, then,” Louis says. “For whatever I did.”

Liam shakes his head. “It’s not… We can’t just say sorry and it’s over. We were having real fights over real things. Or maybe not real fights. Just stupid fights but over and over until I actually wanted to throttle you.”

“Sounds serious,” Louis says, half-teasing.

Liam isn’t smiling. “It _was_ ,” he insists. “But you can’t remember, and it seems so ridiculous now, when I think about how you could have died. But before the phone call from your mum, the ‘Louis’s in hospital’ one, I was _furious_ with you.”

Louis can’t imagine Liam furious. And if Liam’s furious, then why has he been so apologetic and mopey? “We’ve never had a serious fight,” he says.

“I know,” Liam sighs, leaning back. “I think maybe that’s why it all went so wrong. We had a fight and neither of us knew what to do about it.”

“I can’t remember and I don’t care,” Louis insists. “Let me make it up to you. We’ll go home and I’ll make you tea, and then you can fuck me until you’re not cross anymore—“

“Louis!” says Liam, sounding a bit like a scandalized gran.

The wind cuts sharply between them. Louis hates the wind. “Tell me all the stupid things we shouted about, and I’ll apologize, and you’ll apologize, and we’ll go back to the start,” Louis says. He rolls his hips against Liam’s. He’s half-hard just from kissing Liam up against a tree. So is Liam. It must have been ages. 

“It’s not that easy,” Liam says. 

Louis is determined. “Let’s try anyway,” he says.

—

Louis expects Liam to pull away when they get home, but he doesn’t. They fall into bed together, and Louis would rather cut off his own arm than admit that parts of him still ache, because it feels glorious having Liam’s hands and mouth and attention like this. 

He can’t remember much, but he remembers how to touch Liam. Louis pulls Liam’s t-shirt off and kisses his way down Liam’s chest, scratching his fingers through the hair there, stopping to tease and pinch at Liam’s nipples. Liam arches off the bed the same as he always has, and that makes Louis feel settled. Even if he can’t remember, even if they’re furious with each other, Liam still wants him as much as Louis wants Liam. 

Louis bites at Liam’s neck. He tastes the same and Louis remembers all the times he’s done this, even if he can’t remember doing it lately. Liam’s cheek is scratchy and soft at the same time. Louis pinches him, hard, to hear Liam’s stuttered intake of breath, and then Louis kisses him like he’s trying to steal the breath right out of Liam’s mouth.

Liam doesn’t just lie there; he fumbles at Louis’s trousers, undoing the buttons on his flies with his huge hand and suddenly Louis’s so hot all over he can barely breathe. Louis shimmies his way halfway out of his trousers and Liam works his hand into Louis’s pants. Louis bites Liam’s lower lip and Liam groans and cups Louis’s balls, rubbing his thumb around Louis’s dick and making him crazy. Louis tries to wiggle his legs farther apart, to give Liam better access, but he’s still got jeans around his thighs. Liam’s hands are so big, his fingers brush over Louis’s arse, push up between his cheeks, and Louis shudders all over. 

“You aren’t too bruised?” Liam whispers.

Louis shakes his head angrily. He still aches here and there, his neck especially, but he wouldn’t stop this for anything. “I want you to fuck me so I’ll never forget it,” he says. Liam groans, deep in his chest. 

They’ve always been impatient; Louis remembers frantic nights in too-small beds before they got married, and laughing, hurried, teasing fucks afterwards. But tonight Liam’s got a determined look on his face that means he’s decided something, and everything slows down. Liam presses Louis down in to the bed as he pulls his jeans all the way off; he kisses his way up Louis’s chest, pushing Louis’s t-shirt up as he goes. Every brush of his mouth is like very slow, burning torture. Louis digs his fingers in to Liam’s biceps and whines, trying to make him go faster, but Liam won’t be rushed. He waits until Louis’s squirming underneath him, vibrating with want because he can’t think of anything but Liam’s big, blunt fingers and how good they feel. But Liam doesn’t give him what he wants; he sucks a lovebite on to Louis’s neck – that’s Louis’s move, he remembers teaching it to Liam – and catches Louis’s wrists in his hands, pressing them into the blanket.

“Liam, Liam’ c’mon,” Louis says, breathless and only vaguely embarrassed. They’re married; he’s begged Liam for plenty of things. Liam smiles, but not smug, still determined and thinking deeply about something. Louis can’t understand it; he’s too frantic to think at all. 

“Just, flip over, babe,” says Liam, pulling at Louis’s hips. Liam is still wearing his jeans, because they rub against Louis’s bare legs. Louis rolls over eagerly and starts to pull his knees up but Liam puts a hand on the small of Louis’s back and pushes him down again, kissing Louis’s shoulder blades. Liam makes his way down Louis’s spine, stopping to kiss each knob of Louis’s spine. 

Louis feels like he’s melting in to the mattress. His cock is so hard he can’t think about anything else, except maybe Liam’s hands on his hips and his mouth on Louis’s arse. Louis makes a noise that’s half desperation and half shameless begging, arching his back and pushing up on his knees to try and fuck himself on Liam’s tongue. Liam’s accommodating, working in his tongue and his finger by turns, making sparks dance all around the edges of Louis’s vision. Louis pushes up and Liam reaches around for his dick, and that’s all it takes. Liam has years of experience with what Louis likes, and he’s just firm enough and fast enough that Louis comes so hard he shakes, vision going white as waves and waves of joy spiral through him and leave him tingling all the way to his toes.

When Louis comes back to himself he’s got Liam spooned against his back, rubbing his hand up and down Louis’s side. “Fuck,” Louis croaks. “How long has it been since we’ve done that?”

“A while,” says Liam quietly. Even through Liam’s jeans, Louis can feel his dick pressing against Louis’s bum. Liam kisses the back of Louis’s neck. 

Louis could close his eyes and go to sleep for a few hours; he’s more worn out from it than he thought he would be. But he wants – needs – the closeness of having Liam actually fuck him. He doesn’t want to examine that feeling too deeply. “I asked you to fuck me,” he says, voice scratchy. He presses his arse back against Liam and reaches back, putting his hand on Liam’s hip. 

“You did,” Liam agrees. “Are you sure –“

“Shut up,” says Louis. “Years, Liam, I’ve been asking you to do this for years—“

“And I’ve done it plenty,” Liam laughs. He kisses Louis’s shoulder. “Yeah, okay. I mean, I want that too, obviously.” There is a pause, and then almost too quietly for Louis to hear, Liam says, “I’ve missed you.”

Louis doesn’t think Liam means just the few days he was in a coma. “Show me,” he says. “C’mon, Liam. Please.”

“Yeah,” says Liam. His voice is low and rough and Louis can hear how badly he wants Louis, which is almost enough to get Louis’s dick to start participating again. Liam runs his hand up Louis’s spine again and settles on Louis’s neck, making him feel safe and loved in a way Louis hasn’t felt since he woke up. “Yeah,” says Liam again. “Okay.”

—

After, Louis aches, but in a better way than he has since he woke. Liam’s asleep, sprawled across the bed. There are circles under his eyes that look like bruises. Louis rubs his hand on Liam’s back for a minute, and thinks _I could have lost this_. He’s profoundly grateful that he woke up after the accident.

He stretches his arms over his head until he feels his spine crack back into place and then gets up. He’d like a shower and a glass of water and maybe a painkiller. Hell, maybe he’ll try and make dinner for both of them. He’s never cooked but he’s also never had a near-death experience. Maybe it’s worth giving cooking something other than chicken stuffed with parma ham a shot. 

The problem being that he has no idea where anything is in the kitchen. Liam doesn’t cook much, either; they lived on takeaway the whole of the first year they were married. Louis doesn’t know what they’ve got in the fridge or where to find a thing like a big spoon – that’s what people cook with, isn’t it? Huge spoons to mix things with? He looks in a drawer that’s full of corks and string and paper clips and wonders why on earth he and Liam have kept that sort of thing. There’s a folded up paper shoved in on top, something Liam’s squirelled away. 

Or maybe Louis did and he can’t remember. It would be a great hiding spot for a birthday present, since neither of them will ever look there. Louis pulls the paper out and unfolds it, just in case.

For a minute his brain can’t figure out what his eyes are seeing.

_….whereby it was decreed that the marriage solemnized on the first of June between Mr Louis Tomlinson the Petitioner and Mr Liam Payne the Respondent be dissolved unless sufficient cause be shown to the Court within six weeks from the making thereof …_

Louis stares and stares and then his hand starts to shake. 

He’s sent Liam divorce papers. 

He’s _sent Liam divorce papers_ , which means he’s asked Liam for a divorce, which means the fight they had wasn’t some sort of “You work too much” “You never listen” spat but an actual knock-down drag-out fight that’s culminated in _Louis demanding a divorce_.

And Liam’s just shoved them in a drawer.

Has it been more than six weeks? Are they divorced? Is _that_ why Harry and everyone has been staring at Louis like he’s grown a second head whenever he talks about Liam? 

Christ, has he just demanded a divorce from Liam, forgotten about it, and then bullied Liam back into bed with him?

Louis sits down abruptly on the cold kitchen floor. 

It’s him who’s asked for a divorce; maybe Liam’s done something awful. Maybe they had a fight and Liam went out and slept with someone else. Louis would have a fit at that. He’d want Liam gone. But would Liam do that? Louis can’t remember and it feels like his head might split in half. 

He could wake up Liam and ask him but – it’s been days and Liam hasn’t said a word. _No shocks_ Louis thinks bitterly. As if this isn’t the worst sort of shock. Which one of them fucked it up this badly? It must have been Liam, if he’s not the one asking for the divorce. If he’s the one willing to sleep with Louis after all this.

He remembers Liam telling him that if only he remembered, he wouldn’t want to sleep with Liam after all, and wonders what the fuck could have happened.

If Liam won’t tell him maybe someone else will.

—

He turns up at Harry’s door half-hysterical and only belatedly realizing that Harry might have fucking moved in all the months Louis can’t remember. He’s already rung the bell and banged on the door repeatedly. 

Harry opens the door, thank god, and Louis shouts, “Why the fuck didn’t you tell me?”

“What?” asks Harry, alarmed. His eyes goes wide. “Oh god, what’s happened?”

Louis shoves the paper at him and shoves his way into Harry’s flat. He feels like he’s been run over. “How could you let him pretend we were still together? I don’t care what the bloody doctors said, if he’s done something that made me want a fucking divorce then you shouldn’t have let me go home with him—“

Harry’s face reading through the paper is a study in every expression a human can make. Concentration, chased by astonishment, chased by horror. “I didn’t know!” Harry says. “Swear to god, Louis, I didn’t know! What’s the date on this? You never told me.”

“Liam never told you?” Louis asks sarcastically, flinging himself on Harry’s sofa.

“No,” says Harry, voice grave and deep. He looks like he might cry. “Liam never said _this_.”

Louis feels sick. “He must have done something, right? Something terrible? Otherwise he should have told you—“

“Maybe,” Harry agrees. He looks at the paper and shakes his head. “But you never told me he’d done anything awful, and you phoned to complain about him all the time.”

The twist in Louis’s stomach might be guilt. “Then did I do something? I could have got drunk and slept with someone. Or maybe Liam decided he fancies girls again. He always gets distracted by a nice pair of tits—“

“I dunno,” says Harry. He shrugs with his whole body. “You never said any of that.”

“Tell me what I did say,” says Louis. Maybe if he concentrates, some of it’ll come back to him. Maybe he’s been covering up something awful, but surely if he hears his own lies he’ll remember them. 

Harry gets that concentrating look on his face again, sitting down in a chair opposite Louis. His flat looks exactly like Louis remembers, probably because Harry almost never stays there to move anything around. “You had a fight.”

“Yes, Harold, I worked that bit out,” Louis snaps.

“He was always – you said he was always working. He was never home, you never saw him.” Harry looks up testingly, waiting to see if Louis remembers. Louis doesn’t, so he waves impatiently for Harry to carry on. “And Jay, and the divorce and all. You were always there. You said he said why don’t you just go and stay with her all the time, then?”

It takes Louis a minute to sort that out. “I was kipping at mum’s and he said I should just… stay there?”

“He was fucking angry,” says Harry, slowly. Slowly even for Harry. “You didn’t say much else, other than if he didn’t want you, why should you stay?”

“It can’t have been just that,” says Louis. Harry shrugs. “No, I mean, it must have been something _awful_ , we must have had a row to end all rows, we must have—“

“I think,” says Harry consideringly, “maybe it was just the same row, over and over and over. I know he was pissed you couldn’t seem to keep a job. I know you were pissed he was always on your case about it. You’d come over to mine for a beer and tell me you’d been shouting and it was always, always the same. I was a bit bored of it, to be honest. But you never said divorce, Lou. I’d remember that.”

“I wish I did,” says Louis bitterly. 

“You’ll have to go and talk to him,” says Harry quietly. “I don’t suppose you want to, but you’ve got to.”

“No,” says Louis petulantly. “I’m going to sit on your sofa and… I can’t do anything right now. I just need to think. Maybe I’ll remember. Maybe the shock will make it all come flooding back.”

“It hasn’t, though, has it?” Harry asks.

Louis doesn’t say _not yet_ because Harry knows that, clearly. Instead Louis draws his knees up under his chin and wraps his arms around them. He’d feel better if he could get a hug from Liam, but he’s not sure he’s allowed those anymore. He’s not sure he wants them. Everything hurts like it did in hospital, and his head feels muddled. Harry gets him a glass of water, which is nice, but it doesn’t stop anything inside his chest from aching. It feels like he’s been hollowed out and then run over and he’s just… deflated and flat and tired.

—

Harry must call Liam, because Louis’s pretty sure Liam wouldn’t have come over on his own. He hears Harry open the door and say, “Thanks, no, it’s pretty bad,” and then there’s a load of hushed talking and Louis doesn’t look over. He doesn’t care to. Either he’s done something unforgivable or Liam has, and finding out won’t make anything better.

Harry comes over and crouches in front of the sofa. “Liam was worried,” he says. “He didn’t want to come by unless you wanted him to, but I told him to. Don’t be cross, okay? You should talk to him.”

“I said I didn’t want to,” Louis says, but he’s just been staring into space for an hour, hasn’t he, so maybe that’d be better. “Fine. Whatever. Come over, then, Liam.”

He raises his voice for that last bit, and Liam edges into the room. As far away as he can get, really, and then a step closer, and then another reluctant step. Harry stands up. “Do I need to be here to referee?” he asks. 

“We’re adults,” says Louis acidly. “I think we can discuss our impending divorce like adults. Or is it already finalized?”

Louis looks up at Liam. Liam looks terrible. He’s pale and tired and apologetic as he shakes his head. “Two more weeks. I’m sorry, Lou. I should have told you, but you didn’t remember, and it was just… It seemed easier.”

“Why did I want a divorce?” Louis asks. Liam flinches. Harry flinches too, actually, and maybe Louis’s being blunt, but that’s how he feels. He’s all sharp edges and raw inside. “Were you fucking around? Was I?”

Harry backs a couple of steps toward the kitchen. “I’ll just… shall I?” he says, and flees.

Liam doesn’t. He stands there with his hands in his pockets and shakes his head. “No,” he says. “I mean, unless you did and you didn’t tell me. I don’t think you know anyone in Doncaster you fancy, though. Unless you just met them.”

“Well?” Louis says. He refuses to feel hopeful; if it wasn’t that it was something else terrible. Obviously.

“Dunno,” says Liam softly. “I wasn’t angry enough to ask for a divorce. Just to kick you out.”

“How could you do that?” Louis bursts out. “You’d never – the Liam I remember would never—“

“The Liam you remember was a stupid newlywed,” says Liam sharply. Then he sighs. “Things were different once we’d been married for a while. Harder. I didn’t think it would be so hard.”

Louis shakes his head. “Things were never hard with us. It was so easy, I just fell in love with you and it was done.”

“It wasn’t done, though,” Liam says. “Being in love was great for seeing each other and getting married and being stupid. We weren’t so good at being actually responsible married adults.”

“Do you still love me, though?” Louis asked, in a very small voice. “I can’t remember if I still love you.”

Liam stares at the floor for a minute. The pause breaks Louis’s heart into a million little pieces. “Yeah, I reckon I’ll always love you,” Liam says. “No matter how stupid it is, or how much I shouldn’t. Can’t help it. You’re still Louis.”

“That’s something, I guess. I don’t suppose if you know if I still love you?” Louis might cry. He feels defeated and lonely and miserable. 

Liam shrugs again. “I’d like to think you do. If you… If you _really_ hated me, I think you’d remember, and you didn’t, so I thought… I thought maybe it means that deep down, despite all the stupid rows, you still love me.”

Fuck. Louis wipes at his eyes with one hand. “I don’t understand. Tell me what we’ve been fighting about. If neither of us cheated, then what’s so _hard_ about it?”

Liam sits down on the other end of the sofa gingerly. He doesn’t come anywhere near Louis. “I can’t tell you… I mean, it isn’t any one thing. You got fired. I was nasty about it to you. You told me you’d go and stay with your mum. I told you to go and stay there, and you did. Do you want me to rehash the whole fight?”

“Yes,” says Louis.

Liam leans his head back and massages temples with one hand. He sounds absolutely defeated. “You’re going to think I’m such a dick. Again, I guess. You got fired – you got fired for the third time in a year. Just for being late, for screwing around, and I was so mad. I’d been working extra hours, because the rent was always late, and if you couldn’t pay half then I had to pay extra, and you didn’t seem to care. I wish you remembered. And you were always complaining I was at work too much, that I wasn’t home with you, but I had to work because you weren’t, and you weren’t even looking for jobs—“

Shit. Some of this does feel vaguely familiar. “I kept getting fired,” Louis says hesitantly. “I hated – Did I hate working in shops?”

“Yeah,” says Liam. “They were always treating you like crap.”

“I went in late on purpose,” says Louis, a little more certainly. “I wanted a better job, so I went in late on purpose. And you didn’t understand it, you just wanted me to have any job at all.”

Liam holds his hands out helplessly. “You’ve got to have a job. At least, if we’re going to afford a flat in London.”

“But I hated it, and everyone was rude,” says Louis. He can’t remember, but he can _feel_ some of it. “And you should have understood. If you loved me, you should have—“

“I love you, but you’ve got to have a fucking job,” says Liam. “Or – or at least understand when I’ve got to work extra hours, then.”

“I was lonely,” says Louis. He can’t remember the words but the feelings come back like trying to remember a dream once he’s woken. “I was bored, and I was lonely, and you were never home. And if you were home you were snappy and mean.” Fuck, he remembers how terrible that felt. Liam only home long enough to roll his eyes and demand to know why Louis hadn’t found a job yet. Liam storming off to work in the morning without even saying goodbye, just shaking his head self-righteously and muttering about laziness.

“I was tired,” said Liam. “I was tired, and you weren’t even trying.”

Liam slumps forward, elbows on his knees, face in his hands. Louis feels the same way. He can’t really remember any of their fights, but this feels so familiar. He’s edgy and angry and something about _you weren’t even trying_ feels like sandpaper rubbing on an open wound. Liam’s said that before. He’s said it over and over until Louis has started to wonder if he’s right, and if it’s worth trying at all. 

“You made me feel worthless,” Louis says.

“Yeah, well, you made me feel selfish and guilty,” Liam says. “We’re prizes, both of us. We’re shit husbands, it turns out. Divorce was probably your best idea since you said, ‘Hey, wouldn’t it be funny if we got married’?” 

There’s a long pause. Louis’s not sure what else there is to say. He’s bruised on the inside, and Liam did it. He’d never have thought they could hurt each other like this without some sort of huge fight. 

“We always could handle screaming at each other,” Liam says, like he can read Louis’s mind. “We’d shout and stomp and throw things and then we’d go to bed and fuck it all out of our system. But this wasn’t – We couldn’t handle the little every day stress. “

“You were my first real boyfriend,” Louis offers, almost an apology. “Maybe I should have practiced on someone else first, learned not to be such a prick.”

Liam almost laughs at that. “I don’t think we were nearly as ready and grown up as we thought we were. Bloody idiots, both of us.”

“Why did you even show up at the hospital?” Louis asks. “If it’d been you hurt, and me that angry—“

“You’d have come,” says Liam, quiet and certain. “It wouldn’t matter what sort of fight we’d had. If I were hurt, you’d be there.” He stretches his arm out so his fingers on the sofa nearly brush Louis’s. Louis moves his fingers a whisper closer, not quite touching. 

It’s not everything, but it’s something. “I would,” Louis agrees. “Even if I hated you. Even if we were divorced.”

“I know,” says Liam, with a funny sad smile. “I liked you not remembering. It was like I’d gone back in time to when things were working between us. I said I missed you. I do. I miss you every day.”

“But you told me to go to my mum’s,” Louis says. 

“Well, I’m also fucking pissed at you,” says Liam. “Or I was. I’m not anymore. It takes too much energy being sad and worried, I’ve not got any left to be angry. I’m just glad you’re okay. And I’m glad you remember. I’ll bring your things over here; you can stay with Harry or go back to Jay’s. It was nice having you at home again for a little while.”

“Niall moved in with you, didn’t he?” Louis asks, realizing. “I’ve kicked him out. Shit.”

“I needed a flatmate,” Liam says. “And he didn’t mind. I think everyone was hoping… Well, it was stupid; obviously you’d remember eventually.”

Louis wishes he hadn’t. He wishes he’d never found those stupid papers. Or that he could go back in time and not send them. Or not have fought with Liam over things until they felt completely broken. “Fuck,” he says. “Liam, we really fucked this up.”

“Yeah,” says Liam.

Louis grabs Liam’s hand suddenly. Everything Liam’s said aches somewhere in his chest, but sharper and more clearly than that he remembers yesterday and the day before – fond and exasperated and madly in love with Liam. Maybe Liam can’t remember that feeling anymore. “I love you,” Louis says. “I don’t know whether I did last week, but I don’t care. I woke up and all I wanted was you. All I can remember, really, is you.”

“I love you, too,” says Liam. “But loving each other doesn’t fix any of this shit.”

“I nearly died,” says Louis. “Why can’t ‘I love you’ just be magic words that fix everything?”

“Because all the things that we broke are still broken, I reckon,” says Liam. He leans over and Louis thinks Liam might kiss him. Liam kisses his forehead. It feels like a goodbye, and Louis’s stomach flips over in terror. “You stay with Harry. You and me’ll figure out a way to be friends, I hope.”

“No,” says Louis.

Liam goes a little pale again. “Well, I’d like to be friends,” he says, “but if you can’t—“

“No, I won’t stay at Harry’s,” Louis says. “I ran off to my mum’s and Niall moved in with you and things got worse. _Divorce_ worse. I don’t want space from you, I want to fix it.” Something hot is clawing its way through Louis’s chest. Some of the despair melts away because he’s so angry at himself – and at Liam – for just rolling over and letting such stupid little things take away all their hard work at falling in love. 

“Dunno how to fix it,” Liam says, sounding confused.

“Well… Well, I don’t, either, but I know I don’t want to be away from you. I never did, or I wouldn’t have given you such shit about working too much. Did we ever talk about why we were both so upset? Or did you just roll your eyes, and me just stomp out of the room?”

“Some of both,” Liam admits. “We tried talking, sometimes. You’d say you were going to get a job. I’d say I’d work less, then. And then you’d do something, and I’d get stroppy, and we’d shout, and –“ Liam shrugs.

Louis says, “Well, this time we’ll fix it. We’ll talk about it until we lose our voices. We’ll sit there and hash things out and not go to bed mad even if it means we spend a week awake.” His voice is getting a little high-pitched and hysterical. “We’ll go to relationship counseling and ask our mums for advice and call Jeremy Kyle—“

“Louis,” says Liam, almost laughing. “Are you joking?”

“Unless you don’t want to,” says Louis, not looking at him. He’d thought everything hurt as much as it possibly could. He’s ruined things for Liam and Liam’s ruined things for him and they’ve screwed it up as badly as possible. But if Liam’s done with him, then that’s the worst part yet. 

There’s another long pause. Louis feels sick.

“I didn’t sign the divorce papers, did I?” Liam says softly. 

“No,” says Louis, feeling warm again. “You didn’t. I must have been in a terrible strop to send them, but you didn’t sign them, and we can fix this.”

“Maybe,” says Liam doubtfully, shaking his head. “You don’t remember how angry we both were.”

“All I remember is that I love you,” says Louis firmly. He reaches over and grabs Liam’s hand, and Liam lets him. “I loved you before I got hurt and I loved you yesterday and I loved you this morning. And I love you right now. Even after this shitty conversation. The question isn’t whether I’ll remember everything and feel differently, because I won’t. The question is whether _you_ —“

“I do, you know I do,” says Liam. He squeezes Louis’s hand and Louis remembers how Liam had been in bed the night before. Desperate and frantic and a little bit sad. Louis doesn’t remember, but he suspects the divorce papers were him trying to punish Liam somehow, to make him sad because Louis was so sad. He’s never been a very kind person when he’s angry. He wishes he could take it back, along with every shitty thing he’s said to Liam. But he can’t ask Liam to pretend, just because Louis can only remember it hazily. 

“Well then, if we love each other, we should try this again,” says Louis. “Better this time. Not everyone gets a second chance. We’re dead lucky, us.”

Liam’s bewildered and Louis can’t tell if he’s going to laugh or cry. When he finally makes a noise it’s somewhere between the two. “Lucky,” he repeats. 

“Imagine if I’d died—“

“ _No_.”

“—and you’d never got to talk to me about all this. Imagine if I hadn’t got hurt and we’d let the divorce happen.”

Liam nods, and then shakes his head, and bites his lip. He’s not convinced. Louis is, though. If he can fuck it up this badly then he can fix it somehow. If all it wants is one of them to be stubborn, then Louis can be absolutely bullheaded.

“Suppose it can’t hurt to try,” says Liam finally. “You know me; I’ll try anything.” 

“Yes,” says Louis. “ _Yes._ ”

“But if you remember more and change your mind—“

“Shut up,” says Louis, squeezing his hand again. “Shut up and kiss me like you know all the shit things about me and love me anyway.”

Liam laughs. Louis tilts his face up expectantly, and Liam leans over obediently and gives him a quick, chaste kiss on the mouth. “I do,” says Liam. 

“Well,” says Louis, “then that’s a start.”

—

“I’m going to go back to ours,” Louis tells Harry later. “I mean, to Liam’s. I don’t suppose it’s really my flat anymore.”

“Have you worked stuff out?” Harry asks. He sounds anxious. Louis’s a bit anxious, too. 

“Some of it,” says Louis. He thinks about Liam’s face when he went back home; the first time he hadn’t looked absolutely miserable since Louis woke up. Well, then and when they were having sex. “It won’t be easy, but I want to give it a go. I love him. I think if I didn’t I’d remember.”

Harry’s eyes go big and watery. He’s such a sap. “You always loved him,” he said. “You’d just say it wasn’t enough.”

“Well, that plus me realizing I’m an idiot will have to do,” says Louis determinedly. “I’m so much more stubborn than you think I am—“

“Ha,” says Harry.

“—and I can fix this. You’ll have to help me find a job.” Louis looks at Harry expectantly. “I can’t go back to work right now anyway, can I, with the accident and the amnesia. I’ve got time to look for something that isn’t wretched. I’ll find something I don’t hate and then me and Liam can stop fighting about it.”

“You don’t remember,” says Harry carefully, “but we’ve had this conversation before.”

“I _don’t_ remember,” Louis agrees sharply, “which means this time it’ll be different. I can do this. I can be better.”

“Oh,” says Harry. “Well… That’s different. Let’s start looking for things, shall we? I could have some ideas of things you might not hate, but the applications’ll be a load of work.”

Louis makes a face at that – he’s got no idea if his CV is up to date, but he suspects it’s not, and writing out a list of things he’s qualified to do is always a horrifying idea. “Okay,” he says, trying to steel himself. “If I must, I must. I’ll just—“

“We don’t have to do it today, Louis,” says Harry kindly. He smiles a little. “Maybe just… smooth things out with Liam a bit tonight? And tomorrow we can find your old CV. You can’t go back to work right now anyway. Liam’ll be happy as long as you’re trying. You don’t need to get hired today to fix things.”

Louis lets out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. “Right,” he says. “Okay, well, that’s good news. I’m counting on you, Harry.” Harry pulls a face. “Seriously, Harry,” Louis says. “I need this to work.”

“Yeah,” says Harry, smiling crookedly. “We all want this to work.”

Louis nods and tries to look firm. Everything is still wobbly and not set and he wishes he could remember everything clearly, but—well. At least he’s not giving up. At least Liam is willing to try. At least things can get better.

—

Liam’s sat in bed when Louis comes home. He’s on top of the duvet with his jeans and his shirt still on, and he looks up uncertainly at Louis. “I wasn’t sure if—I mean, if you’d sleep in here, and I can sleep in Niall’s room, or—“

“Liam,” says Louis tiredly. “Please shut up.” He climbs into bed next to Liam and wraps his arms around Liam’s stomach, head on Liam’s shoulder. Liam puts his arm around Louis’s back. It’s warm. 

“Okay,” says Liam agreeably. 

How can Liam not be furious with him, Louis wonders. Liam can remember all their fights, all their stupid disagreements clearly. “I’m going to be better,” says Louis. 

“Me, too,” says Liam. Louis can hear him smiling like he thinks Louis is joking.

“We had a good day today,” says Louis. “We had a big fight, sort of, but we talked about it and we were honest. Right?”

“It was loads better,” Liam agrees.

Louis tilts his face up. “So what’s my reward, then?”

Liam looks down and snorts. “What?”

“I was better today, right? Positive reinforcement, Liam. So tomorrow I can get up and try harder and be even better.”

“I only ever want you to be you,” says Liam, but he leans down and kisses Louis. It’s gentle, like he’s still not sure he’s allowed. It’s sweet. It’s a kiss like when they started dating, and neither of them had ever kissed a boy before. 

“I can be a better me,” says Louis, and catches Liam’s lower lip between his teeth. He worries it lightly. Liam always liked that. Liam groans now, in the same way Louis remembers. “We’re not going to go to bed angry with each other anymore, alright?” He shifts so he’s kneeling between Liam’s legs on the bed, arms on Liam’s shoulders. “If you’re pissed at me, you tell me. If I’m pissed at you—“

“You’ve always told me that,” says Liam, with a quiet laugh. 

Louis kisses him, hard this time. Liam laughing tastes the same. How did he forget that he needed this? “We’ll go to counseling if we can’t work out a problem, but we’ll talk to each other more. And we’ll cancel those fucking divorce papers. I can cancel them, can’t I?”

“I hope so,” says Liam quietly. Louis adds that to his mental list. So many things to do. Find Niall somewhere else to live, get hired somewhere, cancel the divorce, make Liam smile like this forever and always. Liam leans in and kisses Louis and this time he isn’t so tentative. Louis opens his mouth and Liam presses in with his tongue, tightening his arms around Louis’s waist. 

Louis shifts forward, feeling his dick start to get heavy, pressing it into Liam’s hip and rocking into it. He can feel Liam’s interest, too. Have they really stopped doing this? What a fucking waste that was. 

“Maybe we take this slow, huh, babe?” Liam says. He rests his forehead against Louis’s. His breathing is a little ragged, his shoulders moving up and down under Louis’s arms as he tries to breathe. “You’re still recovering, and we haven’t – We haven’t been –“

“I don’t want to take anything slow,” Louis says, shaking his head. “What if I lose you again?”

“I lost _you_ ,” Liam protests, but that wasn’t what Louis meant. He pushes Liam backward into the pillows. Liam goes without much resistance. 

How can he have been furious just a few days ago, Louis wonders, kissing his way up Liam’s chest, pushing his t-shirt up as he goes. Did all the pent up anger get destroyed by worry when he thought Louis might have died? Or has he just been enjoying being together again too much to stay furious? Louis maps his way across Liam’s freckles with his tongue, bites lightly at Liam’s nipple and is gratified to hear the groan is the same as it always was. Some things have changed, but the stripe of hair up Liam’s chest hasn’t. Louis rubs his blunt fingernails through it, scratching lightly. Liam’s t-shirt is caught up underneath his arms, and Liam lifts his head and shoulders a bit so Louis can push it off.

He tastes the same. He smells the same, too. Spicy and sweaty and just exactly the way Louis feels like home ought to smell. His hair is stood up at a crazy angle on top of his head when Louis smiles up at him. Liam smiles back. There’s something more relaxed about his eyes, now. Almost like knowing Louis doesn’t want a divorce has allowed him to take the strain out of his forehead.

“I love you,” Louis says. 

“Of course you do,” says Liam, which has always been Louis’s joking response, when he couldn’t believe Liam could ever love him. Louis knows he’s always been a little difficult.

“Of course I do,” Louis repeats, trying to sound stern and failing completely. He’s smiling, is one problem. “How dare you, Liam, _of course I do_.” He kisses Liam and goes for a nipple twist at the same time, but Liam knows that trick because it’s been years. He catches Louis’s hand in his own and rolls them over, straddling Louis. 

“I love you,” says Liam, earnest and honest and so vulnerable it makes Louis’s whole chest ache. Liam has both of Louis’s hands in his but he’s not playing a game, just holding them loosely. “You can’t promise – I know you didn’t plan to last time – but… Could you just tell me, please, that you aren’t going to leave? I just need to hear that, and then I’ll be alright, I think.”

“Fuck,” says Louis. “Liam, I won’t leave again. I won’t. I promise—“

“You can’t,” says Liam, with a little smile and watery eyes. “Even you can’t control everything. But it’d mean the world to me if you’d promise to try.”

Louis can’t say anything to that, he feels undone, like Liam’s taken apart all the pieces that make Louis himself and laid them out across the bed. And Liam has seen the best bits and the worst ones, and he doesn’t care, because while Louis’s still trying to get his breath back, Liam leans down and kisses him.

It’s hazy, after that. Maybe Louis’s forgotten how to breathe with Liam pressed up against him like this. Somehow Liam’s lost his jeans and his pants, and then he undresses Louis. His mouth is hot across Louis’s chest, up his neck, down his hip. His hands are huge and gentle and warm, but they hold Louis possessively, without any of the tentativeness he had earlier.

Louis’s heart hammers in his ears and his skin feels like it’s on fire. He loves how solid Liam feels on top of him, like he couldn’t possibly go anywhere. Louis feels loved and possessed in a way he’d be too embarrassed to ever say aloud, but Liam knows, pressing him into the mattress, marking Louis’s neck with his teeth, sucking a dark red mark on Louis’s collar bone. 

Louis had meant to take Liam apart, show him how much he’s missed him even if he can’t entirely remember, and promise to never leave again. But instead he’s so overwhelmed by Liam he can barely remember how to breathe. 

“I know,” says Liam quietly. His voice is ragged and his cheeks have pinked up. Sweat drips into his eyes as he slides a finger into Louis, and Louis thinks he _does_ know, even though Louis doesn’t know how to say it.

“I want you,” says Louis, voice shaking. He digs his heels into the bed and puts both arms on Liam’s biceps, pulling him closer. Liam’s cock bumps against his stomach, against his own cock. “I want you inside me, I want you to fuck me, I want you to keep me—“

“Babe,” says Liam. “I got you.”

Louis nods, because he can’t think of any other words beyond begging, and anyway Liam’s got the lube again, and two fingers working Louis open and twisting them just right. There are some advantages to make up sex with your husband, Louis thinks, like not having to teach them all over again how to get you off. Liam’s an _expert_.

“D’you want to come just from this, babe?” Liam asks, and Louis shakes his head no, desperately. He digs his fingers into the duvet and tries to catch his breath. Not that Liam won’t want to go again, but Louis’s feeling traditional. 

“Fuck me,” Louis says, half an order and half a plea. Liam laughs and flips sweaty hair out of his eyes. 

“Hang on half a sec,” says Liam. He’s gone for long enough to fumble with a condom and more lube and then he’s back, braced over Louis and pressing into him. Louis tips his head back and shouts, wrapping his hands around Liam’s arms. 

“Love your dick,” Louis manages. He needs a hand on his cock, he can feel himself pushing toward the edge of something every time Liam moves, but he loves this so much he wants to try and hold it off. He wants Liam’s naked, sweaty body on top of his, inside of his, for as long as he can keep him there.

“Fuck,” says Liam. He’s trying to be nice, Louis can tell, but the desperation in his voice, in the way his arms tremble, makes Louis desperate, too. “Shit, Louis, I can’t — it’s too —“

Louis can’t wait; he puts a hand on himself and it’s such a relief he can feel his balls tightening up with the first touch. He doesn’t even try to tell Liam — he can’t, it’s too fast, it’s too much — and then he comes with another shout that turns into a groan. Heat rolls through his stomach and down his legs and arms and everything in the room goes wobbly for a minute. 

Louis gets his breath back just in time for Liam to come, curling in on himself and eyes closing before his arm goes weak and he collapses on top of Louis, knocking the air out of him again.

If Louis didn’t love him so much he can’t think straight, it would be annoying. “Liam,” he says, or tries to say, but Liam’s heavy and Louis can’t breathe. It’s fine. He likes feeling a little crushed by Liam. It means Liam isn’t going anywhere. 

Liam groans and rolls over. Louis feels a little empty and turns and cuddles into Liam’s arm. “Not going anywhere.”

“No,” says Liam, yawning. He only sounds half awake. “Not this time, babe.”

Louis actually believes him, is the thing. He tightens his arm around Liam’s chest and promises himself that this time, somehow, it’s going to be different.

—

There’s a beeping noise somewhere behind Louis’s head; he groans and pokes at Liam until Liam groans, too.

“You can reach it,” Liam grumbles, but he crawls up the bed until he finds the alarm on his phone and turns it off. 

“Don’t wanna,” says Louis, and smushes his face into the pillow. “I’m going back to sleep.”

There’s a long pause. Is that Liam’s silent pause of annoyance? Louis pushes himself back up on his forearms. “I’m joking,” he says. “I know I’ve got an interview today. I’m getting up. Don’t worry.”

“Not worried,” says Liam, shaking his head. He smiles that painfully sincere smile of his. “You said you were going to.”

“You’ve got to keep bothering me about it,” Louis scolds. “I’m lazy and putting in applications is terrible and I hate it. Don’t just say you’re not worried. You _ought_ to be worried.”

Liam rolls over and kisses him. It’s a quick perfunctory morning kiss; his breath is terrible and he doesn’t really try and make it a prelude to anything else. “You promised to try harder,” he says, like that’s it, like that’s _enough_ , and then he rolls out of bed.

“Are you working late again tonight?” Louis asks, sitting up. He sounds whiny. Liam’s putting on clothes, which is a terrible shame. 

“Not tonight,” says Liam. He’s got his pants and shirt on, looking around for his jeans. “I told my boss we’ve got date night tonight. Did you hide my jeans?”

“Look under the pile of clothes,” says Louis. “Date night?”

Liam grins at him. “I thought we deserved a night out. If you fancy it? ‘Cause you’ve been trying so hard, and I don’t want to be at work all the time anyway. Just means we’re a bit broke, so I hope you fancy Pizza Express and not, like, a proper night out.”

“I demand Nandos or I’m divorcing you again,” says Louis.

“I can’t believe you think that’s funny—“ Liam says, but he laughs.

Louis’s always walked just the wrong side of the fine line of good taste. “It’s hilarious,” says Louis. “Come back to bed.”

“I’ve got to find my jeans,” says Liam, but he crawls back onto the bed. Louis wraps his arms around Liam’s neck and kisses him properly, despite both of them tasting a bit crap this morning. “Stop trying to distract me,” Liam says, pinching Louis’s thigh, and goes back to looking for his jeans.

Louis sighs. “Do you have any idea how crap my day is going to be, sitting around waiting for this stupid interview, and then tailoring my CV so I can apply to ten more jobs I won’t get?”

“It’s awful. I know,” says Liam. “That’s why I’m taking you out tonight. Stop whinging.” He smiles to take the sting out. 

“I just want to find something, so we can stop worrying about all of it,” Louis says. “Isn’t it driving you crazy? It’s driving me crazy.”

Liam pulls on his jeans and runs a hand through his hair. He needs a shave, Louis thinks; he’s got distinctly wooly around the face. “Just don’t give up,” says Liam. 

“I promised, didn’t I?” Louis asks, and throws a pillow at him. Liam laughs again. “I’m not going to,” Louis says, not looking at Liam. “I know what happens when I do, now. I’m not going to do that again.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” says Liam, and then he goes into the bathroom to brush his teeth. They both need a little space after they say something that’s a little too sincere, apparently. 

Louis takes a few minutes to get dressed. He dreads the day coming up; no amount of everyone cheerleading makes him feel any better about filling in more applications and updating his CV again. He doesn’t feel especially hopeful about the interview today, either, except that at least he’s got one. And instead of getting the judgmental, heartbreaking face from Liam that makes him want to scream and punch things, he’s getting the hopeful I-believe-in-you face, that makes him vaguely embarrassed for not being nearly as good as Liam thinks he is. 

But he wants to try. It’s shitty and exhausting, but when Liam comes home at night Louis isn’t dreading another fight about what Louis spent all day doing. They argue, obviously, but it isn’t the sort of bone-deep anger with each other they’d built up before. Louis tried skirting around things for a few days, but that didn’t work, and it just made Liam anxious, so now he jokes about it, and whines, and pouts. 

It’s not like it was before, and it’s not all new, either. They haven’t really hit a reset button. They’re just both trying harder.

“Babe,” says Liam, coming up behind him. He wraps his arms around Louis’s stomach. “I can see you thinking.”

“We haven’t had a fight all week,” says Louis. “That’s good, isn’t?”

“Just got to keep that up another fifty years or so, I reckon,” Liam jokes. He kisses Louis’s jaw. 

Louis likes how big Liam feels against his back. “Should we pick a fight, just so we can practice solving it like adults?”

“No,” says Liam. “That’s a bit much, I think. We’ll just stumble along like idiots instead. I’m not worried, Lou. Stop worrying.”

Louis can’t, he knows how terrible it is when it goes wrong, but if Liam’s this sure, it makes him feel okay, too. “Okay,” he says. 

“Okay,” Liam echoes. He kisses Louis’s neck again and then grabs his jacket to go to work. “I’ll be back to pick you up for dinner. You’re gonna be brilliant.”

“Of course I am,” says Louis. “Can’t be worse than the interview where I spilled the tea all down my shirt.”

Liam stops in the doorway. He’s smiling, his real, brilliant smile, even though Louis’s a pain in the arse. They know how badly they can hurt each other and they go on anyway, as if it couldn’t happen again, because _this time_ they know better.

“I love you, too,” says Liam. “Try and remember that, yeah?”

Louis loves him so much it hurts. “Don’t worry,” he says. “Even when I didn’t remember anything else, I remembered that.”

**Author's Note:**

> So the other month I was listening to This American Life ep. 526 (you can google it but I'm not linking it to fic) and they teased the following story:
> 
>    
>  _A woman who got in a car accident and then was in a coma for 52 days, woke up having forgotten the last two years of her life — during which she'd divorced her husband. Once her family members reminded her that she was divorced, all she wanted was to get back together with her ex-husband, even though he, their kids, and everyone else in the family, weren't sure it was a good idea._
> 
> That is obviously not quite this story, but it was certainly the inspiration. Everything about the medical stuff in here is totally 100% nonsense, because this is a fic. Thanks tremendously to [torakowlaski](http://archiveofourown.org/users/torakowalski/pseuds/torakowalski) for beta-ing and britpicking. Remaining mistakes are all my own fault. And love to [sunsetmog](http://archiveofourown.org/users/sunsetmog/pseuds/sunsetmog) and [mistresscurvy](http://archiveofourown.org/users/mistresscurvy/pseuds/mistresscurvy) for making me finish it when I stalled out after 10k.
> 
> Please don't post this fic anywhere else, please don't distribute it anywhere, please don't put it on goodreads, and really really please don't link it to anyone being written about here. Thanks!


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